There is
by Mark 'Manix' Odell
Summary: (Also Romance) Leon has received a crippling injury. Will he have the spirit to make his life worth living? Can Claire help him do it? L/C C/J pairing, Please R
1. Default Chapter

Leon stared out of the window, eyes fixed on nothing in particular, completely unblinking. He was watching grey storm-clouds cluster and mass in the thick air, the growling of thunder gently pounding at his eardrums. He could see the whole city from where he was, the fourth floor of the New Jersey state hospital. It was a quite breathtaking view through the thick, sound-muting glass; but the view, replete with towering skyscrapers and teeming life, was not something that was bothering him right now.

   With one hand, he scratched absently at his knee. He frowned at the numb sensation that passed through him as he scratched; not for the first time, he felt utter, all-encompassing misery. The nurses said that the view was good for him, that it would be something to look forward to once he finally got out into the fresh air of the city in a couple of days. A little more surgery was apparently needed, to repair a few of the nerve endings that had been busted, but the main damage, to the nerves of his back and to his soul, would probably never be repaired.

    As Leon sat, he felt the words digging into his skull, impossible to forget, indelible words that if their promise was fulfilled, he would never be able to think about them without weeping uncontrollably. He'd heard Claire talking to the Doctor about it when he'd still been in intensive care. He'd also heard the news of Steve Burnside; a long-standing friend of Claire's and maybe had once upon a time been her lover. However, whatever existed between them wouldn't have come to fruition, even if it could have now; Steve was dead. 

     In retrospect, Leon thought, he felt that Steve had got the better deal. A bitter tear of resentment and frustration formed at his tear-duct, and coursed its inevitable path down his cheek. Not at anybody in particular; maybe at the world, at the imbalance of justice and the unfairness of everything. He probably would have dwelt over the death of Steve, had he not been preoccupied with his own predicament. Jill, he'd heard, was alive; but the gunshots had done some mild damage to some of Jill's nerves, one had even been severed. He hadn't met Jill yet over her problem, as she too was still in hospital and was confined to her room as well as he. Leon wanted to talk to Jill desperately, not because he had any feelings for her exactly, but because he wanted to talk to somebody who could empathize with him.

     The words that had been spoken by that doctor echoed in his soul.

     Leon would have stood up and paced the room. He couldn't do that. He couldn't even lift himself out of the chair to stand on two legs. Leon S. Kennedy, who prided himself on his fitness and his physical ability in his new position in the STARS, was paralysed from the waist down.  

_Leon may never walk again_…

    He cast his mind back over what had gone wrong, what had caused his life to crack and crumble around him. They couldn't even blame Umbrella anymore. Umbrella was bust. The company had been brought down with a combination of legal action and surgical strikes; it had been a trial of Nuremberg proportions. Leon still recalled the triumph he felt when the executive committee of White Umbrella had finally been sentenced, and the U.S government had dismantled their corporation forcibly. The STARS had been elated. Finally, their nightmare was over.

   Heroes however, Leon thought, never get what they truly deserve. All he had wanted, along with the other STARS was to just live the rest of his life in peace. That raid had turned his world upside down. Him, Jill and Chris had gone in as part of the advance team, Claire as the backup with Barry supervising. It wasn't Barry's fault, though. The lack of intelligence had underestimated just how many terrorists would be in that warehouse. There were nine instead of five. One of the unaccounted terrorists had appeared out of nowhere, and sprayed assault rifle fire at Leon. As six bullets had thudded into his body, he heard Chris yelling above the pain, and saw the man himself fire back. There was a scream after exchange of gunfire, and Leon through his mask of agony watched Jill hit the ground, blood pooling around her as she gasped for life. It had looked bad…but she was all right now. They'd finished off the terrorists, but Jill and Leon had been rushed straight to hospital with the other wounded. None of the injuries had been too severe. Chris himself had got shot in the arm, but a bandage and a little surgery had solved that no problem. There'd been some cuts and bruises; Claire herself had a nasty scar on her upper forehead and lower arm. Leon was relieved that she was fine, it was probably the best thing that had come out of that mess of an operation. His friends were _alive _that was the main thing.

   Whether or not his spirit's determination to keep living was a good thing or not, he didn't know. He did have several ambitions, whose accomplishment was still in question.  

    The greatest of these was to have a family with the woman he adored…would Claire be interested though? Thankfully the damage had not actually destroyed any chance of him being a father, but…

   He loved Claire, but he'd never been able to ask her what she truly felt for him, _if _she could ever feel anything for him, particularly now that he was confined to a wheelchair. Could she love a man who was now dependent on others in a variety of ways? A man who had become one of the many people who could never walk again. All those times he took his ability to walk for granted, he wished that he hadn't. It was just one of those things, to be able to move like an athlete.

    It was at this moment he felt at his most miserable. What use did a paralysed cop have to the STARS now? He wasn't a tactician, he was a policeman who took orders and knew how to fire weapons. What scared him most was what would happen when he returned to active duty. Leon was not looking forward to a managerial decision about his future; they wouldn't let him go – it was bad P.R to let go of a Police officer because he was now 'incapacitated'. 

   The door opened. He didn't turn simply because it took an ice age to turn his wheelchair around, and Claire, the person who had entered, knew this. She approached Leon timidly; her footfall cautious just in case Leon was asleep.

    "It's okay, I'm awake" he said, "You don't have to act like I'm infectious either."

   He bowed his head contritely.

   "Sorry, that was uncalled for"  
 Claire stood in front of him, with a gentle smile on her beautiful, clear face. She tenderly put a hand on his shoulder.

  "It's okay, Leon. Don't worry. I'm sorry, I guess I just didn't think that you didn't want to be treated like an invalid."

   "Don't worry Claire, please…just don't…worry…" he managed, holding back the tears.

   Claire could see in his eyes that it hurt him. It had crippled him and his pride. Claire felt a swell of emotion to see what an injury had reduced such a fine man too. She felt guilty, looking at Leon confined to his sitting position that she'd got off so lightly. A couple of scars, which was it. That was it. She and others had cried at the death of Steve, they had mourned his death on the night of the raid. He had joined them of course, but his bravado had gotten the better of him.

     The funeral was going to be about five days after Leon and Jill got out of hospital, so everyone could go and pay their final respects. Claire leaned against Leon, and put her arms around him, leaning into his shoulder. He pressed one hand against her shoulder, and breathed her scent.

    "How're you, anyway?" he asked, forcing a smile onto his face.

    "I'm okay, couldn't sleep again last night" she replied, trying to smile cheerfully back. In a way however, her expression was real; she was overjoyed that Leon was alive, that her reason to hold on to happiness was still around and breathing, even if he couldn't move his legs. Such a relieved thought overwhelmed her again; she pressed herself against him, squeezing him tighter.

    "Get some pills from the doctor, Claire. You need to sleep, you look all in" Leon said concerned, as they disengaged from the embrace.

     Claire laughed inwardly. What irony, Leon was worried about her health when he was the one who wasn't even able to stand up.

     "I dunno" she kicked the carpet idly "Those things sent me funny last time, I don't think it'd be such a good idea if I took any…"

     "Claire, you need to _sleep_." Leon replied, firmly "Please, get some sleep. Go home."

    "Leon…" she shook her head "…I couldn't just leave you…and Jill here when you're both seriously injured." 

     "Claire."

  He put a well-used but gentle hand on top of her soft hand.

    "There are a good couple of days to go until me and Jill get out of here. I'll get Chris to take you home himself if I have to."     

    She shook her head, lips crinkling to smile softly at him. 

   "I'm going nowhere Leon."

Leon sighed, and squeezed her hand. He didn't want to think about his immediate future, it was not a part of his life he was going to relish.

    "Claire…I'm scared…" he whispered, "I know it sounds like I'm wimping out, but…I am…"

    She stroked his darkish bangs, putting her arm around him.

    "You'll be okay Leon. I'll make sure of it." 

Auhtors Note: I know this isn't the story you were probs all expecting, but I wanted to write something that sizzles with emotion and pain. Maybe this has been done before, I don't know. This however, is mine. I want it to be intensely emotional, but please don't rail at me if it seems trivial J And I wanted to expand on the themes of hope, despair and life itself J. Hope u like it!


	2. Everyone Feels Pain

"I wish I could believe that, Claire, I wish I could" Leon said quietly, "My professional career's over."

 "That's bull" Claire replied sharply "You know as well as I do that they'll be happy to allow you to return to the job."

  "That's not what I meant" Leon sighed, feeling the skeletal hand on his heart squeezing harder with every passing minute "I mean…I won't be returning to the job I want to do. What will they do with me? Put me in front of a desk no doubt."

  "Leon, you're a huge asset. You're an assertive thinker, you're brave, you're sharp-"

  "No, I'm not a huge asset!" He snapped, "All I ever wanted to do was serve in the police and protect the good. Now with this…" he waved disdainfully at his immobile legs "…I can't do that."

   Claire exhaled quietly. It was no use trying to convince Leon about anything yet, he still wasn't past the shock and bitterness of not being able to walk, ever again.

  "I'm sorry, that was unnecessary, I mean…you've been as supportive as can be, right?" he croaked, hanging his head a little in shame.

 Claire squeezed him and kissed his forehead tenderly.

   "Leon, we'll help you get through this. I promise that you won't be lumbered behind a desk, I can assure you of that."

   Leon smiled a little, head pressed against her.

   "You never have lied, have you?"

   "Never even told a white one." she replied, smiling in a broad and glowing way that made Leon believe miracles could come true "Now, get a little rest"

   He nodded, and she walked out of Leon's room. Outside in the pale-lit corridor, an emaciated Chris Redfield sat with a cup of coffee and a pair of eyes which were so dark Claire suspected he'd been sleeping as well as she had. She sat down beside her brother, who was running a hand through his hair.

   "How is he?" Chris asked after a minute's worth of listening to the hubbub of the hospital buzzing with life.

   Claire shrugged.

   "Bitter, upset, angry, depressed…how you'd feel if you were paralysed from the waist down, basically."

   "Shit…" Chris shook his head, and sighed deeply "…the stupid irony of all this is that it was a human who did it. A human. He's pulled through the whole Umbrella thing, been infected, recovered, bitten, recovered again…and then he gets shot by some dumb asshole with a machine gun. It's all bullshit."

   Claire nodded, sadly. 

   "It's going to take him a while before he'll be convinced that he is of any use again."

   "I think him and Jill both have that problem; they can help each other there." Chris replied, thinking of Jill and how despondent she'd been when he'd visited her last. He wanted to see her again; to go and explain to her that everything would be okay. In fact, he'd do that now.

    "I'm going to see Jill, you want to come?" Chris asked, standing up.

   Claire shook her head.

   "Not yet…I want to stay for a bit just in case…Leon needs me."

   Chris nodded, understanding. Then, he turned and walked down the corridor.

Jill was hunched over the sink, washing her hands. She straightened up, remembering that she'd forgotten the soap. Jill's useless left hand hung limp as her right hand turned the hot tap off. She turned, and walked in a dragging limp over to her wash-bag on the shelf above her bed. Jill had been told the limp would become less dragging with time, but that she'd be limping for a fair amount of her life to come.

   Jill grasped the soap with her one good, working hand and went back to the sink. She stopped, realising she couldn't turn on the tap with her good hand taken up. So she put down the soap on the sink, and turned on the tap. Out of habit, she put her hand towards the soap. She tried to close her fingers around it, but the hand wouldn't listen. Jill fumbled with the soap, the slippery object sliding in her unresponsive fingers before it slid out and dropped onto the ground. 

   Jill leaned against the sink, and not for the first time, began to cry streams of tears that she'd only just washed off from the last time she'd been crying. Her slight hunch now was a result of the nerve damage, and now she…she looked in the mirror at her angry, upset features. Jill felt useless. She couldn't even wash her hands properly anymore. Her hand was deadweight, a piece of bone wrapped in flesh. Jill had been a master of lockpicking; now she doubted she'd be able to do the simplest of locks. No thief could pick a lock with one hand unless said hand had the muscle strength of a crusher. Her gun, too. Jill wasn't the best of aims, she knew this, but it was a matter of sheer pride that she was a decent shot and that her nimble frame had advantages when in a tactical situation.

   Jill, with physical training, the doctors had said, might be able to learn to shoot with one hand and do most tasks with one hand, maybe even learn to jog, and she hadn't been made sterile or anything by the damage. That was the only real good news. It wasn't much of a consolation prize, though.   

   She remembered talking with Leon, whom she saw completely eye to eye with regarding their situation. He'd said something about how they'd probably retain jobs, but fairly simple and undemanding ones just so that the STARS didn't look discriminatory towards disabled cops. She had to agree; this was probably going to be the case, in fact they were told a S.T.A.R.S commissioner would be dropping off condolences and details of reassignment with regard to their 'ailments' the next morning. Jill didn't want to imagine what dreary task she'd be given; if it was secretarial work, she'd outright quit. She'd rather be a non-S.T.A.R.S member with her dignity than a S.T.A.R.S member without it. 

   Dignity was important, she told herself. Jill was all dignity, was Leon; as two fighters who had helped bring down the bio-weapons division of the Umbrella Corporation, they deserved more than this. 

    Jill heard a knock on the door. 

    "Come in" she said, blandly.

    Chris walked in, a faint smile of encouragement but also of contrition painted across his features. Jill quickly used her wet hand to wipe her eyes, hoping her flushed cheeks had gone down.

    "Hey" he said, gently.

    "Hey" she replied, looking at a man who was one of the reasons she felt as glad as she did about still being capable, sexually. It wasn't that she fantasized about him or anything, but their relationship was extremely close and it would take one word from one of them to turn it into a commitment. At the moment of course, this wasn't on their minds. Chris looked at Jill, sadness and bitterness raging up in his mind as he thought of who had taken away what Jill prized the most, her athleticism and skill with locks. He was without a doubt the person who cared for Jill the most; hell, loved her would probably be a better word.

     "I just wanted to see if you're okay." he said.

     Jill sighed, a little exasperation making its way to the surface in her voice.

     "Chris, I'm fine. I'm the same as I was yesterday."

She hobbled across the room, towards her bed. Chris wasn't an idiot though, and he saw right through her sensitive reaction.

     "You were crying again, weren't you?"

     "No" she replied, a little coolly.

     "Jill" he stepped forward, voice concerned but with an edge to it "I'm not an idiot." Then, his voice softened, and he added, "It's only understandable. You're injured. Your hand injury may not be so bad-"

     "Not so bad?!" Jill snapped, voice rising in volume to an almost alarming level "Chris, I'm fucking crippled! The nerve's been severed, it's a fucking dead weight!!"

"Calm down" Chris said, as softly as ever.

"I can only just walk, I've got one useful hand, how much worse could it get?!" she yelled.

"Jill!" Chris replied, voice still soothing but with a slight sharpness to it, "We have a man down the corridor paralysed from the waist down, he's in the same boat as you."

  Jill sagged. Chris immediately regretted his sharp response. He watched her shoulders shake, and walked forward to embrace her. She put her arms around him, and buried her face into his chest, weeping for all she was worth.

   "Jill, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said that" he whispered.

   "No…I'm sorry, you're right…getting angry won't help anything" she replied, quietly "Chris, tell me everything will be okay"

    Chris, breathing in her hair and stroking it gently, said

    "Yeah. It will. I promise it will."


	3. Vilification

Leon was wheeled along by Claire despite his endless protestations that he could do it himself. Claire was adamant however that he wasn't ready for that yet. He said he was strong enough, Claire sternly pointed out that he had had about eighteen plus blood transfusions and was not ready for physical exercise just yet. Jill walked, arm linked with Chris, her injured hand hanging in a sling that was secured in a knot over her shoulder. Leon had gone over the instructions from Dr. Stevens quite exhaustively. He was aware a physiotherapist would be coming to his house every three days to give him physical lessons? Yes. He was also aware that a trauma therapist would be coming to discuss the mental effects of the disabilities with him every week? Yes. He'd gone over them constantly and it all went past him like a blur. The reception doors yawned open with a sigh, and Leon breathed in his first satisfying breath of air in a long time; no more over-tropical hospital gardens, no more feeling like he was a physically useless invalid. There was certain finality to those doors, the knowledge he was finally going home.

His heart sank however as he thought of his home. It wasn't a house for the disabled, things weren't in easy reach, he didn't have a stairlift or any other kind of implement to help him get upstairs…how the hell could he do it himself?

"Looking forward to getting back?" Claire asked, as she pushed him out into the forecourt.

"Uh." Leon mumbled, staring down at his legs. He hated the sight of them already.

Claire patted his shoulder as she pushed him out onto the smooth concrete of the pavement, hitting the brake as Chris left Jill for a moment to get the car.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you for a few days until you get used to it"

Leon looked up at her and smiled.

"You'd do that?" he said.

She smiled back, pinking slightly at the cheeks.

"Of course I would."

Jill smiled for the first time in a very long time despite her current mood.

"I think he just wants _you _around because he likes seeing a pretty girl in his house everyday"

"Watch it you" Claire said, nudging Jill.

Jill sighed, staring at her hand again. She'd grown into the habit of staring at the numb limb, something she'd been told she shouldn't do by the nurses if for sheer psychological purposes. It wasn't like she could help it however; she thought darkly, the nurse wasn't the one who'd lost use of _her _hand after all.

The car growled up alongside them. Claire opened the rear door.

"Come on you wounded soldier, let's get you in"

She reached underneath his legs, and with surprising strength that Leon wouldn't have quite believed Claire had, helped him into the back seat. Jill quickly nabbed the front seat next to Chris, eliciting a smirk from Claire that was along the lines of 'look who's talking'. She folded up the wheelchair and pushed it into the trunk before climbing into the car next to Leon.

Leon turned to look at her; he was stunned by just how beautiful she was. Which again preyed on his mind; was she only helping him out of sympathy? Would she go and not come back once she felt he'd adjusted? It was a horrible question to which there was only one answer, but one that he wouldn't know yet.

Chris gunned the engine, and the car pulled away from the hospital; Chris snuck a glance at Jill, who looked out of the window with that detached expression he'd seen her wear so much lately. It wasn't like her at all. This was not the Jill Valentine he quite knew, even though it was still the one he…well…loved, he supposed was the best term for it. He hadn't told her naturally, being quite shy despite the bravura he exuded quite openly. Chris knew a lot about Jill too, and knew that she had a sense of pride - he could tell she'd taken a heavy shelling in that department regarding her disability. This did worry him. As much as he had told her, and Claire had told Leon the same thing with further vehemence that the STARS would not neglect them, the STARS were not perfect as a group. Human prejudice ran rife particularly amongst the elites. He didn't want to be the one to express this concern, but there was a deep-seated fear of his that Leon and Jill would be ostracized for perceived as being 'cripples'; useless in every department essentially. The physically and militarily elite did not take kindly to men in wheelchairs or women with dead hands.

Oh, he and Claire were highly respected, Barry and Rebecca of course would be as understanding as ever…but they were not the only members. There were a lot of STARS, and some of them didn't even like Leon or Jill, maybe even capitalizing on their disability. Chris could talk up their roles as best as he could, and he'd even see to it that they weren't thrown bottom rung jobs, but relegation to routine work seemed an ever likely situation.

Something that would send Leon and Jill over the edge into despair, more than likely. He gripped the steering wheel with determination; he wasn't prepared to let that happen, particularly to his dearest Jill. He simply wouldn't.

"Hey, look who's home!" Barry smirked in that typically big-hearted way of his, hugging both Jill and Leon in turn as if they hadn't received so much as a glancing blow, making both feel a lot more at home than they felt he had needed to – but this was Barry here. Barry was always on hand for such gestures.

Rebecca had not seen Leon out of his hospital bed, so for just a moment her face blanched with shock at seeing a man on whom she'd had quite a vast crush once now seated in his wheelchair. He smiled at her, a smile that was a little superficial as he noticed that moment of uncertainty and shock in her face; then she relaxed and warmed up.

"It's so good to see you guys again!" Rebecca said with characteristic perkiness, hugging both Jill and Leon. Jill rolled her eyes at Rebecca's enthusiastic embrace, but drew her arm with the dead hand back so that Rebecca didn't crush it. She looked down at Jill's hand.

"Is that…?" she indicated the hand.

Jill nodded, and hobbled forward. She was still fully limping at the moment, something Rebecca tried not to notice.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't point at it" Jill replied quietly.

A long and uncomfortable silence followed as Rebecca sheepishly backed off, mouth clamped firmly shut just in case she said something else stupid. Claire looked down at Leon, rubbing his shoulder tenderly just in case he took offence to Rebecca's comment…but he didn't seem fazed, or surprised for that matter.

"You guys looking forward to getting back to work?" Barry said, cheerfully.

"Well, I suppose it's something to look forward to" Leon replied, Claire spotting the double-edged meaning of the comment. Barry apparently did too.

"Don't worry, I know it won't be quite the same thing but I promise you that I'm making sure you don't get desk jobs."

Leon nodded, and smiled slightly to show he wasn't intending the comment as spiteful.

"I know you'll try your best, you always do."

Barry nodded back with a smile.

"Hey, it's me."

Leon was in the kitchen. Rebecca was grabbing things out of the top cupboard as he sat paralysed in his wheelchair, busy opening a can of baked beans for their supper. Rebecca was looking at him anxiously, as if she were terrified of making another terrific gaffe. She didn't know how to talk to somebody whose livelihood had fallen away. How did you talk to someone whom you knew was going to go to work and find a desk job waiting for them when they got there? You couldn't. As much as Barry had tried, she had learned, the police department were keen on making them an example of their equal opportunities program – basically an approach that looked good in public relations but to the individuals involved was excruciatingly condescending. Rebecca remembered her grandfather had lost his leg in a vicious plane crash in Midway when he'd fought during the last world war. He'd hated the way people simpered over him on a constant basis, and usually responded in his typically rough but to-the-point way that it was 'just a leg, damnit!'

She wondered if Leon felt similarly. On the other hand, maybe he didn't want to discuss it. At this point, she realised she'd made another gaffe – she'd been staring at Leon the whole time, and he'd noticed her stare. His expression soured.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, not without a faint trace of acid.

"I'm just wondering how to tread the line between careless and patronising" she replied, fairly honestly.

Leon sagged, and leaned on his arm. He was getting used to the numbness, but it was still a foreign emotion; knowing that you couldn't feel the muscle because it had no functioning nerves attached. No pain, no sting, no tingle. Nothing. Just a void.

"I'm sorry" he said, sighing in defeat "I'm just trying to work out how the hell to deal with this."

He reached up and put the tin on the sideboard. Rebecca smiled.

"Well, you can still use your hands, right?"

Leon nodded, barely comforted. He pushed the wheelchair forwards, it hit the sideboard and the tin wobbled, teetering on the edge before falling directly onto the floor, orange sauce and beans spilling over the floor like a bad make-up effect from a horror movie. Rebecca smiled slightly and bent over to pick it up. As she was bent over, she heard Leon's breathing change. Then, she heard the sobs. Rebecca stood up quickly to find Leon's shoulders shaking as the tears streamed down his face. She placed a hand sympathetically on his shoulder as his red-rimmed eyes turned to meet hers.

"Hey. Its okay." She said, soothingly.

"No it fucking well isn't!" he snapped, voice sticky with emotion "I'm a cripple! I'm wheel-chair bound, I'm a fucking physical wreck! I can't walk anymore! I have no feeling in my legs because there's no nerves that fucking _work _there anymore!"

Rebecca didn't think she'd ever seen Leon so vulnerable. As tenderly as she could manage, she said

"Leon…I'm sorry. I really am."

He looked at her, face red and angry.

"Tell the man who ripped my spine to shreds with his automatic rifle to apologise. Then I'll be happy."

With that, he spun around and wheeled himself out, Rebecca watching him helplessly.

Claire was sat in her room, staring at the wall, staring at everything, staring at nothing. She was wracking her mind as to what she could do to make things better for Leon; it was nearly impossible. Leon's livelihood had been taken away and she had to cope with it. Claire had dedicated herself to helping Leon claw back some of the dignity he had lost, but she was having severe trouble. How on earth could she convince him that life was worth living? He was so immersed in misery that he seemed almost cut-off. He only spoke really to Claire…and Jill. Jill was still in the house; she too was retreating inside herself, not something Claire had expected the usually perky and cheerful lock-picker to ever go through. However, like Leon, her greatest ability was now redundant.

She clenched her fist. What was needed was some tough love. Leon had to learn to respect himself as he was, as did Jill. Self-pity was not something Claire liked and seeing Leon drowning in it made her desperate to save him. Leon was one of the strongest men she knew; but right now he was sinking under the weight of the cross he believed he had to bear. A cross that Jill seemed determined to carry too.

Rebecca walked glumly into the room, and flopped down on the bed next to Claire. She lay back, sinking into the covers as Claire turned to look at the frustrated expression on the young medic.

"How is he?" Claire asked, quietly.

"Worse. He went to pieces after he knocked a tin of beans on the floor. He burst into tears and went into the garden. Jill's spent most of the afternoon sitting in the lounge not saying anything, though Chris is with her holding her hand."

She sighed, and massaged her temples with her fingers.

"Things aren't getting any better."

Claire bowed her head slightly.

"We have to convince them that they can't give up. They're determined to believe that they're useless. We have to convinced them otherwise."

"But how?" Rebecca asked irritably "Leon just snaps at me all the time."

"Give him time to cool off. After that, I'm going to take him into my personal care."

She turned to Rebecca, eyes fiery and determined.

"I am not giving up on Leon. I'm just not."

_I'll never give up on him _she thought _and I refuse to let him give up on himself_.


End file.
